Golden
by alyseci5
Summary: Silence is golden.  Becker/Jess


**Pairing:** Becker/Jess

**Spoilers:** Set during series 4 but no specific spoilers

**Disclaimer:** Primeval and its characters belong to Impossible Pictures. No copyright infringement is intended. This is fanfiction, written solely for love of the show.

**Author's Notes:**Written for torigate's kissing meme request of Becker/Jess for my kissbingo card square 'other: while talking'. Thanks go to Aithine for the beta.

-o-**  
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Becker has always considered himself the strong, silent type. Well, perhaps not exactly the strong, silent type because when he actually (and a little self-consciously) forms the thought in his head, it sounds faintly ridiculous, like he's from one of those terrible spaghetti westerns he used to watch on TV as a kid. Very... American, somehow, all guns and Stetsons and showdowns at the OK Corral.

The truth is that he's probably always been more the English variety than the American - the reserved 'stiff upper lip, pass the cucumber sandwiches and aren't we having terrible weather' type. Far more civilised and far fewer shootouts, at least in theory (and at least the creatures coming through the anomalies don't **often**shoot back). He's always been perfectly happy with that approach to life; it's equipped him to deal with very many things, from school to Uni to the army and now this second life as a private soldier of sorts.

It just hasn't equipped him to deal with Jess Parker.

It should have done. If nothing else, his experiences of Connor Temple - all rambling, nonsensical thoughts that take forever to get anywhere, interspersed with the odd flash of genius, which is the only reason he hasn't killed the man yet - should have prepared him for Jess. But it really, really hasn't.

Compared to Jess, Connor is positively **mute**.

Jess flits from subject to subject far more rapidly than Connor ever did, but, unlike Connor, everything Jess says has a point. It's a rapid-fire delivery of information, all of it valuable, all of it pitched with Jess' normally bubbly and near infectious joy. Becker's half-seriously considering walking around with a tape recorder just so he can make sure he doesn't miss anything, mainly because there's no way that he'd ever be able to write fast enough to take notes on the fly. Connor's already told him there's an app for that; as far as Becker's concerned, Connor should mind his own bloody business.

At least if he taped her he'd be able to play it back later. For note taking purposes, of course. It has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that he likes listening to Jess talk, and Connor needs to mind his own bloody business about that as well. Jess' sheer joie de vivre is contagious, but Becker isn't quite pathetic enough to tape her to listen to her outside of work, and Jess talks enough at him when during it. And Connor has also pointed out more than once, with a smirk that Connor thinks is subtle but really isn't, that he and Jess are together a **lot**.

In fact, they're together so much, and Jess so rarely seems to stop talking long enough to even **breathe**, that Becker is finally forced to kiss her out of sheer desperation, just to shut her up for five bloody minutes.

He half expects her to talk through it. She doesn't; instead, her eyes stay closed for long moments after he's finally pulled away, and the taste of her strawberry lip balm lingers on his lips.

When she finally opens her eyes again, the look in them is dazed and she utters a soft, faint, little, "Oh!" And then she blinks at him for a minute, stunned - finally - into silence.

He's been hanging around scientists too long; his first thought is that the only way to satisfactorily prove a hypothesis is if an experiment can be repeated with the same result. For some unknown reason, Becker's starting to acquire a newfound respect for scientific endeavour.

This time when he presses his mouth against hers, Jess leans into him, her lips parting easily under his. Her clever and nimble hands wind their way around his neck, her fingers sliding into his hair as she pulls him closer, letting out another soft sound of pleasure against his mouth.

That clinches it as far as Becker's concerned, at least in scientific terms. He may now be willing to (reluctantly) admit that he quite likes listening to Jess talk, for all that she could talk the hind legs off a donkey, but on balance he thinks that he might actually prefer it when she's quiet.

As long as he's the reason for it, of course.

Plus any scientist worth their salt would tell you that theories need to stand up to rigorous testing, and Becker thinks he might just be the man for the job.

The End.


End file.
